Hind, Emily. “Children's Literature on the Colonia: La Nao De China, The

Hind, Emily. “Children’s Literature on the Colonia: la Nao de China, the Inquisition, Sor Juana.” In Colonial Returns in Contemporary Mexico. Eds. Oswaldo Estrada and Anna Nogar. Arizona UP, 2014. pp. 211-229. !"#$%&' (&) Children’s Literature on the Colonia La Nao de China, the Inquisition, Sor Juana Emily Hind Mexican colonial histories for children published after the year 2000 con- cern this volume in terms of three themes: * rst, the maritime trade route between Acapulco and the Philippines; second, the Tribunal of the Holy Inquisition; and * nally, the biography of Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz. The present analysis pays attention to both the use and suppression of a gothic mood as it affects the three thematic groupings. On an international level, gothic styling has become so familiar that the aesthetic “is probably more pop u lar now than it has ever been” (Heiland 156). This global popularity re+ ects the power of the gothic to contradict the rational impulse of the Enlightenment, since the shadows, mysteries, and unknowable yet enclosed spaces of the gothic mode provide relief from the demands of a contrasting, rational progress narrative (Anolik 2). In terms of Mexican literary tradition, that eerie tone characterizes Heriberto Frías’s turn- of- the- previous- century chapbooks on Mexican history, available in the eighty-* ve installments of the Biblioteca del Niño Mexicano (1899– 1901) and illustrated by José Gua- dalupe Posada (Alcubierre Moya 121).1 Frías * nds the colonia memorable largely for its horrors. About a century later, the post- 2000 histories for children show that gothic narrative tactics can be used, on the one hand, in texts that represent the colonia as a period of appalling cruelties that must never be repeated, and, on the other hand, in texts that warn that contemporary realities engage the colonia and thus enclose the past within the present. These two approaches call upon familiar gothic moods by emphasizing 211 212 · Global and Transatlantic Itineraries themes of transgression and monstrosity, as well as enclosure and persecu- tion. These topics create fear in the reader, and as Frías knew, suspense keeps an audience engaged with a story.2 Despite what could be termed a “gothic creep,” suggesting that the eerie is continually edging into many colonial histories, the three topics in the more recent histories sometimes attempt to sidestep the spooky with troublingly dry results. For example, work on La Nao de China that would avoid the gothic mode largely elimi- nates human * gures. The Inquisition lessons that would evade the gothic tactic look to numbers to quantify events, and when it comes to Sor Juana, biographies that would refuse the gothic tend to insist on the wholly admi- rable, and consequently inaccessible, nature of the poet- nun’s timeless, undead model. The contradiction that wavers between treating children as “special” readers who would require character- infused, gripping, gothic- tinged narratives, or addressing children as mature readers who can handle a stricter, more factual approach, hints at a larger debate in our time re- garding the disputed divisions between childhood and adulthood. It is not clear which group ultimately proves the more “innocent” when it comes to the dif* cult legacy of Mexican colonial history. Manila Galleons in Mexican Children’s Literature Recent Mexican narratives for children on the subject of the colonial trade route tend to emphasize maps and objects, rather than characters and ad- venture; thus, their young readers are imagined to possess a high tolerance for factual information.3 Even the summaries of these texts can bore, and thus before reviewing the titles, it makes sense to acquaint the reader with a radically different approach to similar topics. The lively British series of history books for children whose titles begin with some variations of the phrase “you wouldn’t want to” show that accurate history of maritime ac- tivities, to name only one topic covered, can be enthralling. In these English- language books, humorous cartoon * gures in the midst of a busy layout convey excitement and humor and create a sense of progressive se- quence. The books always begin by giving the reader instructions on tak- ing on a starring role. For example, in You Wouldn’t Want to Sail with Christopher Columbus! Uncharted Waters You’d Rather Not Cross (2004), the * rst lines directly address the reader: “The year is A.D. 1492. The place is Palos, a harbor town in southwestern Spain. You’re ten years old and it’s time for you to * nd a job to help support your family” (Mac- donald 5). The reader’s explicit engagement * nds further incentive in a Children’s Literature on the Colonia · 213 fun, cartoonish aesthetic that can be described as “only + irting” with the gothic. Despite endless grotesque details drawn from eras that predate mod- ern medicine and human- rights law, the histories never tip into the fully creepy, because their details amuse more than they horrify. That is, the British series does not participate in the same gothic tone found in some Mexican texts, mostly thanks to the giggling foreign books’ upbeat illustrations. Furthermore, the humorous British books never suggest that beyond the pa ram e ters of each book, young readers should want to go back to the past and reside in its settting, or that the present operates as a faithful re- + ection of this past. In the Eu ro pe an histories, the past seems delightfully and thankfully past. Not so in the Mexican books. In contrast to the sequential delivery of disturbing details that make for a rip- roaring good time and a history lesson in the British series, El galeón de Manila: Los objetos que llegaron de Oriente (2005), by Rosa Dopazo Durán, features statically serene and collage- like drawings of ships, maps, and vague people, along with some * nal images from the collection in the Franz Mayer museum, where the author works. Two more contemporary- styled illustrations in the text mercifully present a brief appeal to more playful sensibilities. One picture shows human legs sticking out of the ocean surface near a shark * n, and another portrays Posada- like skeletons strewn about on a galleon deck. However, most of the text seems only loosely aimed at a young audience, if younger audiences can be assumed to prefer stories with engaging plots and speci* c characters. For example, consider the unexciting conclusion that means to relate the trade route to the present time: Y más allá de intercambios comerciales y artísticos, esa línea que se tendió de Acapulco a Manila, in+ uyó de manera determinante en nues- tra cultura, pues además de los objetos, llegaron también chinos y * lipi- nos que trajeron consigo tradiciones y costumbres, formas de vestir, de hablar y de comer, y que formaron familias que probablemente todavía encuentren en sus recuerdos el eco del mar que atravesó el Galeón de Manila. (47) The fact that no image of the aforementioned families appears suggests the abstract nature of the human relations portrayed. A stronger sense of humor— but the same generally dry approach— characterizes Claudia Burr and Rebeca Orozco’s Lo que va y lo que viene: La Nao de China (2006). This book takes inspiration from the writings of Gerónimo Monteiro, an admiral from the mid- eighteenth century. Unfortunately for children in 214 · Global and Transatlantic Itineraries search of a heroic protagonist, Monteiro does not appear in the text until the notes at the end, which seem focused on informing teachers instead of entertaining youngsters. In a second, perhaps more regrettable move for younger readers, the authors use images taken from the colonial period, and the visuals concentrate not on humans but ships, without developing a sequential sense of action from page to page. Still, an occasional touch of humor manages to interrupt the rather inert transmission of data, as a “you wouldn’t want to” moment occurs with the mention of scurvy. The authors con* de that dozens of people onboard died after losing their teeth to the disease, since the stricken travelers could not swallow or chew (Burr and Orozco n.p.). Unfortunately for child readers inclined to gaze upon historical horror, the above lines accompany a placid drawing of a ship. Interest in the trade route between Acapulco and the Philippines is not new, and in a history text for young readers published in 1900, Heriberto Frías takes a different tack when he enthuses, “¡Se llamaba la nao de China! ¡Con qué delicia era esperada en México aquella maravillosa nao!” (Los crímenes 10). In contrast to Frías’s merry enthusiasm when it comes to telling children about the trade ship, the title of the relevant chapbook, Los crímenes y las epopeyas de México colonial, emphasizes law- breaking and strikes a chord closer to the delicious frisson of the “you wouldn’t want to” British series. A gothic aesthetic more plainly characterizes another of Frías’s history titles, El fantasma carnicero humano (1900). The promise of a scary tale seems likely to hook readers, and Frías doubtless believed that the dreadful tone would convince an otherwise reluctant audience to read about the colonia. The contradictions of this approach bear emphasizing: somehow, a portrayal of the colonia as a disagreeably violent period of history was intended to cast that time as a more attractive subject. The fact that Frías felt he had to overcome audience disinterest in the colonia appears in his lamentation from Los crímenes y las epopeyas de México colonial, in which he exclaims that grown men had elected to protect their ignorance of the period: “Fueron pasando los años, los años unos tras otros, sin que ninguno de los hombres .

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